


Count Jackula

by orphan_account



Series: Lokerberge Castle [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Multi, Oni Genji Shimada, Vampire Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 22:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After being attacked while travelling, Jack goes on a desperate search for a cure so he can finally return home.





	Count Jackula

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackHunter666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackHunter666/gifts).



> Took a bit longer then I thought but here it is folks, the prequel to Monster Bait. I'll be updating the Relationships and Tags as I go so keep an eye on those. Hunter, I can't believe I let you name this.

Listening to the calm chatter of his favourite servants and guards, Jack Morrison, third son of the Earl of Withington, relaxed a little more and enjoyed the peace of the journey so far. His father had worried about him travelling so far from their estate, but so far the trip had proven to be rather boring. It certainly beat staying at the manor anyway.

It had been a long journey but it will be worth every day to see his sister again. Isabella had married the Count of Lokerberge the last year and was now expecting their first child.

Shifting in the saddle and lightly patting Thunder’s neck, Jack sighed softly as he looked around, wondering if perhaps someone in the party could catch something to add to their travelling rations. Some fresh venison would be nice for a change. Or perhaps a pheasant, prepared with the mushrooms Mary had been gathering during the trip.

Thoughts of food disappearing in an instant, Jack barely had time to think as a group of ragged men burst from the treeline, weapons raised as they crashed into his guards with a roar. 

His guards pulled out their swords as the servants scrambled back, out of the way.

"Mister Morrison, stay back!"

He didn't have a chance to even fully process the command as filthy hands grabbed his tunic and pulled.

Training taking over, Jack kicked clear of the stirrups and twisted, kicking his assailant in the ribs as hard as he could manage. He clearly felt something give beneath his boot, a sickening crunch popping between them as they both hit the ground.

A little winded by the impact, it took Jack a moment or two to sit up and pull his dagger from his belt. Heaving up into a crouch, focused on the filth-crusted assailant in front of him, he tightened his grip on his dagger and lunged, refusing to let these ruffians totally spoil his day. Swiping out, keeping the other man back as he stood and backed up to get a little breathing space.

Glancing back to ensure Mary was safe, having gotten rather attached to the young woman during their travels, Jack snapped his focus around again and let out a shocked cry as the unwashed brute tackled him back into the dirt, driving the air from his lungs. Half gagging on his foul breath, Jack threw one arm up to protect his face as he searched for his dagger behind him.

Fingers curling around the ornate hilt just as a sharp pain lanced up his protecting arm, he swung it around and down with as much force as he could muster from his position in the dirt, jamming the full length between his shoulder blades until it could go no further. The heavier man convulsed, spewing a mouthful of blood across Jack’s face.

Bile crept up Jack’s throat as he realized he had swallowed some of his attacker’s blood. Who knew what foul diseases that man could be carrying?

"Sir, are you alright?!"

The body shifted quickly off him to reveal the worried face of Mallard, one of his guards. Jack accepted the offered arm though let out a soft hiss as he was able to inspect the wound to his arm.

“Bastard bit me on the arm.”

“Come Sir, Mary can tend to your wounds while we make sure all the attackers are dead.”

Climbing up into the wagon and taking a seat on one of the clothing chests, Jack couldn’t stop thinking about the fight, analyzing every detail as he peeled off his tunic and the shirt underneath. Accepting the mug of water Mary handed him, he shuffled closer to the tailboard and rinsed his mouth as she carefully cleaned the bite mark and neatly dressed it. Reaching out again, she washed the drying blood from Jack’s face, her touch gentle and comforting after a rough day.

“You look quite pale Sir, perhaps it would be best if you rested a while.”

Nodding slowly, surprised by how weary he suddenly felt, Jack stumbled towards the small cot set up in the front corner of the wagon. Fumbling his boots off and curling up on the thin mattress, he closed his eyes and listened to the voices outside, reassured by the familiar babble. Gripping at the blanket draped over him, he smiled faintly as he drifted off to sleep.

~

He was so thirsty. His throat felt like sand and each breath burned as it went down. He needed…

“Sir, you’re awake! Take it slowly, you’ve fallen ill with a fever.”

Dimly aware of the soft voice above him, muted below the roaring in his ears, Jack felt new instincts rear, insisting that salvation from this thirst was at hand. Desperate to quench the fire, he let those instincts take control and slipped beneath the waves of red.  

Jack’s hands shot out and tangled themselves in Morgan’s hair, dragging him down to the bedding. The servant’s cry of surprise was a distant noise, inconsequential in his desperate thirst. Pale skin split like ripe fruit beneath his teeth, releasing blood into an eager mouth.

Jack let the now still body drop and lapped at the fluid coating his hands. He was still so thirsty, there had to be more somewhere. He perked up as the sound of voices reached his ears, maybe they would have more.

He stumbled out of the tent on weak legs, eyes blinking against the fire light.

“Mister Morrison!”

"What happened? Are you injured? Whose blood is this?"

Looking down at his bloodied hands, Jack hissed softly, his thirst becoming almost impossible to ignore. Looking up slowly, he met Mallard’s gaze calmly, nose twitching at the scent of something delicious right there in front of him.

“Sir, are you feeling well?”

Faster than he’s even aware of moving, Jack’s got Lewis by the throat, eyes sliding closed in bliss as the salty-sweet tang flooded his mouth, easing his thirst. Drinking his fill, feeling a strange new strength flowing through him as he discarded Lewis’ pale corpse, Jack stepped clear as Graham and Mallard came towards him with swords drawn.

Surrendering to the heat in his veins, Jack charged the two guards with a hissing growl. Feeling skin tear and bones break under his hands, he tossed them aside and moved on, mindless beneath the power surging through him. Finally, when his thirst was satisfied, Jack listened for any sounds of another meal before retreating to one of the tents to rest to let his meal settle. Licking the last traces from his hands and forearms, he pulled the blankets up and drifted into a deep, restorative slumber.

~

Jack yawned, jaw cracking as he pushed himself up. He didn't remember eating anything but one of the servants must have feed him during the night as he felt pleasantly full. No light filtered through the fabric of the tent, which he took in with a frown. This wasn’t his tent, which begged the question of why he was in it. Jack stood on wobbly legs, pushed away the opening of the tent and stepped into the crafting of a nightmare.

Bodies dotted the clearing where they had made camp, blood sprayed across the grass, tents and even across the carriage. Jack stumbled forwards towards the closest body and choked as he recognised Lewis whose throat looked like it had been savaged open by an animal. Turning, he stumbled from body to body, searching for any sign of life. In the half open flap of his personal tent, the bloodied and savaged body of Morgan, his most trusted manservant.

Graham and Mallard lay side by side, bodies broken and bent, Harrison not far away, horror written of every line of his face. Mary was almost completely hidden by Turner, as if he had tried vainly to shield his wife from whatever had dealt this fate. Duncan, Jameson and Arthur's bodies were almost unrecognizable, such was the damage done to them.

Jack choked down a sob as he stared around at the remains of his loyal servants and guards. How had he slept through this? Why hadn't he stared their fate? Desperate for more answers, Jack stumbled over to Turner's gear and grabbed one of the unlit torches. By the light of the moon, he saw the terrified look on Mary’s face and choked on a helpless sob.

With some effort, it sparked to life, flames casting shadows across the clearing. Later, he wouldn't be sure what caught his eye but for some reason he turned towards Lewis' body and the polished metal of his armour. Slowly, Jack knelt and stared at his wavering reflection.

Gone was his sky blue of his eyes, replaced by a deep dark red. His once sun kissed skin was now a pale, papery white. But what truly caught him was the gore caked around his mouth and down his chin. Two sharp fangs gleamed in his mouth, damning him in the torch light.

He was..he had..this was..

Jack fled. He dropped the torch and with only the pack around his waist, he fled in the forest. Away from torch light, away from the carnage, away from the guilt.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have tumblr so feel free to come yell at me there - svart-jade.tumblr.com


End file.
